A Bet's a Bet
by Intestines
Summary: Augustus Rookwood will do anything for money. Ludo Bagman will do anything for a job at the Ministry. Antonin Dolohov will do anything for a bet.


**A/N: **Did someone order a Bagman/Dolohov? No? Well, we've got one going spare.

Written for A Sirius crush on Moony's _Unpredictable __Competition_. The challenge was to put two random characters in the story, as lovers. My characters were obviously Ludo Bagman and Antonin Dolohov, and that's a challenge right there. Obviously, this is a slash pairing, but it's not really a pairing at all. If that makes sense. Ah. It will when you read it. I hope. Rookwood's such a smarmy bastard.

**NB: **I don't know if Dolohov was Irish or not. He is now.

_This is for the lulz. Please to not be taking it too seriously._

* * *

><p><strong>A Bet's a Bet<strong>

It was a Tuesday night and Ludo Bagman had once again been invited to play poker with Augustus Rookwood and his friends at the Three Broomsticks. Ludo was quite chuffed about this, because he liked Rookwood, and Rookwood would often buy Ludo drinks and talk about getting him a job at the Ministry of Magic.

Rookwood's friends were pretty cool guys, too – they all seemed to be very successful and especially good at poker. He particularly liked Antonin Dolohov, because when they'd very first met Ludo hadn't been sure if he was French or Russian until he heard him speak and realised he was Irish. Ludo had thought that was very funny (though he may have been a bit tipsy at the time) and he very much admired Dolohov's beard.

Rookwood was rolling his eyes at having to invite Ludo again, because Ludo was loud and drank too much and acted like a child whenever he lost a game. But, still, he didn't realise when he was saying too much and Rookwood needed him to talk so that he could keep in the Dark Lord's good books.

As per usual, Ludo was acting rather silly, having had a few. He kept shifting his chair closer to Dolohov, and trying to peek at his cards. Dolohov kept frowning and shuffling the other way, which made Rookwood laugh. When they had finished one game (quite quickly, because of a conveniently-placed mirror), Rookwood volunteered to buy more drinks, and yanked Dolohov up by the ear, hissing at him to come with him.

"Ow," said Dolohov, massaging his ear and following Rookwood. "That hurt."

"Stop being such a baby," said Rookwood. He ordered the drinks and then turned back to their table. "Look. Look over there."

"I'm looking," said Dolohov. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"See Ludo Bagman over there?"

"Yeah?"

"See him, over there?"

"Yeah?"

"I think he fancies you."

"He does not," said Dolohov, scowling.

"I think he does," Rookwood insisted.

Dolohov, still massaging his ear, turned slowly to face Rookwood and make a what he hoped was a threatening face, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he had begun to blush at the prospect of someone showing an interest in him. "Why would a guy fancy me?"

"Must be your Oirish charm."

"I don't have any Irish charm."

"Yes you do, you've got it in oodles."

"Are you telling me he fancies me, or that you fancy me?"

"_He_ does," said Rookwood, and pointed to the table. "But don't be too flattered, I think he's taken a liking to Rowle as well."

Thorfinn Rowle was currently trying to avoid any eye contact with Ludo.

"Well, Rowle's a lucky bloke," said Dolohov, grabbing a beer (which was not his) from the bar and taking a sip, "but I'm going to suggest you're wrong on the first count."

"I would beg to differ."

"Listen." Dolohov leant in to speak to Rookwood, with a conspiratorial air about him. "Ludo Bagman does not fancy me."

"Okay," said Rookwood, holding his hands up in surrender. "Maybe he doesn't, maybe you're right. But I'm going to bet that he does."

"You—" Dolohov pointed a finger at Rookwood threateningly. Rookwood knew that Dolohov would not be able to refuse a bet. Rookwood smirked. "Fine," snarled Dolohov, defeated, slamming whoever's beer it was down and grabbing the tray of drinks. "Twenty galleons. And the loser has to babysit Greyback's cubs next time."

"Fine by me," shrugged Rookwood, and Dolohov scowled at his greasy face, which still wore a smug smirk. Dolohov snatched up the tray, which caused some of the drinks to slosh over their tops.

"Careful with that," said Rookwood lazily, as he followed Dolohov back to the table.

/

After the poker game, the men were preparing to head home. Ludo had been a little rambunctious all evening, and Dolohov was feeling sick to his stomach about what he would have to do in order to prove his part of the bet to Rookwood. He was sure Ludo didn't fancy him (of course he didn't! He was a bloke, wasn't he?), but all the same, he didn't want to lose twenty galleons.

Rookwood had been watching him all night, raising his eyebrows suggestively any time Ludo said anything, and waggling them in a horrible way. Dolohov had tried to train himself not to look at him.

"You heading home?" he asked Ludo, casually, leaning on the bar. Ludo was currently struggling to get his travelling cloak on, due to the amount of alcohol he'd ingested, and wrestled with it for a while longer before he answered Dolohov, panting slightly.

"Yes," he said. "Can't be doing with sleeping on the floor. Have to find a bed for the night, you know."

"Ah, yes," said Dolohov. "It's cold outside," he noted.

"I know that," said Ludo. "That's why I'm trying to get my cloak on, you see. But it's being very uncooperative. I just can't seem to…" He began wrestling with his cloak again, until it fell to the ground in a heap.

"Here, let me," said Dolohov, picking it off the floor. "You'll be very cold out there, without a cloak," he said, in a tone of mock concern.

"I daresay I will," said Ludo, and he stared hard at Dolohov, furrowing his eyebrows as though he was attempting to use psychic powers to will him to do something.

"Er," said Dolohov, "d'you want to come to my room and warm up with a bit of Firewhiskey?"

Ludo looked shocked at his proposal, but gathered himself quickly, and said, "My dear man, I would be… I would be charmed." He hiccoughed. Dolohov raised his eyebrows. "Lead on," said Ludo, extending an arm. "I wouldn't want to get lost on the way, ha, ha."

Dolohov cast his eyes around the room urgently, searching for Rookwood, but Rookwood, who was sipping whisky in a far corner of the bar, merely gave him a wink and an 'I-Told-You-So' look before Ludo dragged Dolohov through the door to the living quarters of the inn.

/

**_A week before_**

_"Ludo," said Rookwood smoothly to the younger man, as they collected the drinks for the poker game, "you know, I do believe you are exceptionally talented."_

_"Thank you, Mr Rookwood," said Ludo, blushing slightly._

_"Call me Augustus," said Rookwood._

_"Alright, then. Thanks, Augustus."_

_Rookwood glowered at him, then smiled. "Now, you are very charming. You'd make an excellent member of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Anyone would agre—"_

_"Thank you, Augustus."_

_"—anyone would agree," repeated Rookwood, ignoring Ludo. "You see my friend Antonin over there, Ludo?"_

_"The Irishman?"_

_"Yes. I believe he—"_

_"I thought he might have been Russian," laughed Ludo, "based on his name. Or perhaps French, but, you know—"_

_"The accent is hysterical, yes," snapped Rookwood. "I think he's taken a shine to you, Ludo."_

_"Do you think so?" asked Ludo, eager to be accepted by Rookwood's friends._

_"I do," said Rookwood. "In fact, I think he'd like to have you for his very own."_

_"Er…" said Ludo, confused._

_"I know Antonin's been feeling a bit down lately," Rookwood continued. "It would probably help if you cheered him up… If you catch my drift, Ludo. I'm sure it would… really help."_

_"Mr Rookwood, if you mean what I think you mean—"_

_"I know what I'm talking about, Ludo. I am a _Ministry employee_, after all," said Rookwood. Ludo gulped. "Besides," Rookwood smiled, "I'm always right. Twenty galleons," he said, looking pointedly at Ludo, "says I'm right."_

_Ludo blanched, but he did not want to say or do anything to upset him. Surely Antonin Dolohov could not _like_ him in... _that_ way? That would be ridiculous. And yet, Rookwood was smiling and suggesting that it was so… And Rookwood was a friend of Ludo's father… And Rookwood worked for the Ministry…_

_Rookwood extended his hand and they shook, firmly._

/

In the living room of his own house, lavishly decorated and with a flickering fire, Rookwood chuckled to himself as he smoked a fat cigar and counted his gold. People, he thought, were so stupid.


End file.
